


Steve Versus Mixed Martial Arts

by Neverever



Series: Steve Rogers, 21st Century Sports Fan [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Boxing & Fisticuffs, Gen, Mixed Martial Arts, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-23 23:50:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1583945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverever/pseuds/Neverever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Tony go undercover during a Mixed Martial Arts tournament in Las Vegas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steve Versus Mixed Martial Arts

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to my beta.

Tony adjusted the knot of his cheap polyester tie with a disgusted sigh as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror in his hotel room in Mandalay Bay. His two-queen bed, one flatscreen, regular room. Where the minibar was in a mini-fridge with a lock and all the furniture was veneered.

He wistfully thought of the lavish high-roller suites he usually stayed in while he was in Las Vegas. And he hoped that no one would recognize him with his deliberately poorly styled hair and no-name, off-the-rack suit. 

Hearing Steve enter the room, he turned to complain. “You know, these fibers are –” He stopped as he took in the sight of Steve in his fresh-from-the-Jersey-Shore makeover. Natasha and Clint had gotten together and decked Steve out in the latest gym-rat club wear – a too-tight shiny shirt opened a button too far, unremarkable pants, and overly styled hair. Steve’s skin even had an orange sheen from the spray tan to complete the look. 

”Wow,” Tony said. “If I touch your hair, it won’t even move, will it?”

Steve touched his spiky hair gingerly and frowned. “I have no idea if this will ever wash out.”

Tony chuckled. “Captain Brylcreem is complaining about a little product? Just remember, buddy, this was your idea.” He adjusted the disguise matrix on his face. Immediately he looked like a middle-aged man with a bad dye job.

“Yeah,” Steve acknowledged and grabbed a program book from his bed. “Are you ready to head out?” he asked, after he flipped through the pages. He was already wearing his matrix, obscuring his natural good looks.

“Are you sure we have to sit in the crappy seats? I could make one call and –” Tony was not looking forward to slumming through Vegas.

“No,” Steve said firmly. “Besides, I’m not sure we’re even going to get to watch the matches. The person I’m looking for is on the edge of the whole business.”

Tony would ordinarily love to be in Las Vegas on a big fight night. The crowds, the excitement, the celebrities all added up to fun times. But he was here on business, and acting like a responsible adult these days, which added up to no fun all around. Total dullsville. 

“So what do you need me to do again?”

Steve patiently went over the plan one more time. “You’re my manager. I’m an amateur mixed martial arts fighter looking for a big break. We are looking for the people recruiting amateur fighters for Hydra, AIM, Serpent Society and other terrorist organizations. Then we turn the recruiters in to the authorities.”

“Okay, because I have no idea how you’re going to do this. You’re not exactly the undercover type. I still think Clint should have done it.”

“But I’ve seen this type of people before,” Steve said with a sigh. “And I really want to stop them. As long as I don’t have to fight anyone, we’ll be okay.”

“I don’t see why that would be a problem. These people fight like you do.”

Steve cocked an eyebrow. “That’s exactly it. Anyone out there would immediately recognize my fighting style. And that would blow our cover.”

Tony snorted. “Our thin, improbable cover depending entirely on whether or not our targets can’t recognize me in a cheap suit and you in a spray tan. Even with these disguise matrices.”

A short time later, Tony and Steve sat in the Sports Book bar, nursing their beers and surreptitiously analyzing the crowd. The place was full of fighters, their entourages and the audience. While Tony liked the atmosphere of fight night, he didn’t particularly care to watch the fights themselves. Especially since the mixed martial arts fights reminded him way too much of his day job as an Avenger. He tried to blend in as he waited for a sign from Steve. He had no idea what exactly Steve was looking for.

Fights from the previous night were replaying on the bar televisions. Steve watched the matches with an experienced eye, and commented to Tony about the various fighters and their abilities. “See that guy on the right, in the blue trunks? I think I fought him two weeks ago when we were taking down that AIM operation in Michigan.” Steve pointed at a nearby television.

Tony stared at the figures on the screen. “How can you tell?”

“The kickboxing. He has a particular wind-up before landing a kick.” Steve ran a finger along the top of his glass, engrossed in watching the fight. 

“How can you even see that?” Tony said in amazement.

“The same way you know about the tech we come across. Knowledge and training.” Steve smiled. “After the Battle of New York, I spent two years learning all sorts of fighting styles, especially mixed martial arts. So that’s how I know what to look for.” 

A little while later, Steve went off to the bathroom, leaving Tony alone at their table. Tony was pondering exactly how to make Clint pay for suggesting that Tony pose as Steve’s manager when a man walked over. 

“I’m here about your boy.”

My boy? Swallowing his annoyance, Tony replied casually, “Yeah, Jake.”

“I saw him sparring this morning. He’s good. Is he looking for work?” the man asked. Wearing worn jeans and a leather jacket, he wore a cowboy hat and sunglasses and was completely indistinguishable from dozens of other men in the casino. But he stood a little too close to Tony for comfort and smelled of beer and cigarettes. Tony noted the knife partially hidden in his boot.

Tony knew his shady businessmen. And this man fit the parameters to a T. “Jake’s looking for a break. He’d like to get into some matches.” Tony trotted out his version of a manager’s spiel. 

“Well, I might have something for him. Here’s my card,” the stranger drawled. 

Right, sure you do, Tony thought. He made a show of taking the card. “Sure. I’ll be in touch.” The plain card had a business name and a cell number. Shady through and through. Who in their right mind would trust this man?

When Steve returned, Tony showed him the card and described the man. “Might be a lead,” Tony suggested. 

“Sounds good,” Steve said as he scanned the crowd.

Tony checked his watch. “We should get going if we want to catch the first match of the evening.”

On their way to the arena, Tony asked, “Why is it so important to you to find these recruiters?”

Steve frowned, as he concentrated on not walking like Captain America. “They’re exploiting these fighters. All these guys want to do is earn a little money and hit the big time doing something they love. They get preyed on by people offering promises and money and find themselves working for Hydra.” He paused and then said passionately, “I hate seeing people get exploited and used. And I want to stop it.”

“Gotcha. Settle down there, big fella,” Tony warned. They didn’t know who was in the crowd around them.

They made their way to their seats through the crowd. “See?” Tony pointed out with a huff. “We could be sitting in those seats up front.”

“Uh huh,” Steve replied. He was studying a group of people talking in the aisle. 

“So we’re going to be stuck here,” Tony restated, “in these seats. With the worst view of the octagon.”

“For now. And I think those people over there behind the pillar have the worst view.” Steve took out his program as a ruse to hide his spying.

Tony took out his phone to check for messages, hoping to hear from Pepper. But nothing. He sighed and tapped his fingers on his thigh. He looked around at the people near them. “You seem to know a lot about these recruiters.”

“Bucky got into boxing before the war. We ran into a manager who promised him a lot of money. But Bucky would’ve had to take a dive in his fights. Bucky had the good sense to not listen to that guy.”

“Why would anyone fall for that?”

Steve paused and had a pinched look on his face. “The money meant that we could have eaten for a week. It was a hard decision for Bucky. I – I knew another guy who took that manager up on his offer and it didn’t go so well for him. I wish I’d gotten through to him.”

Steve’s tales of the Depression weren’t very enjoyable or funny, Tony had long ago decided. “Avenging the past, then.”

“Past, present and future, there are always people trying to exploit other people. Especially when the exploited are desperate.” Steve started to get up. “Let’s go. I think that’s the man who met you earlier.”

“Wait – what, now?” Tony was confused.

Steve steadily walked up the steps and confronted the group of men and women he had been watching. Just as Tony caught up to them, one of men lunged at Steve after Steve said something. A fight broke out. Another man shouted, “Hey, it’s Captain America” when Steve threw a punch and a roundhouse kick. Once identified, Steve ripped off the disguise matrix and continued the fight.

Tony groaned, knowing how vulnerable they could be in a large crowd that could turn hostile at any moment and here he was without the armor. Men and women scrambled to get out of the way of the fight. Tony had the uncomfortable feeling that cameras were recording the whole fight.

Steve quickly had things in hand, displaying a masterful combination of Muay Thai, kickboxing, judo and other fighting styles. The audience on the sidelines cheered him on. Tony dragged his attention forcefully from the display of Steve’s sheer athleticism to call the federal agents they were working with. Police and casino security were soon flooding the scene to break up the fight, just as Steve neatly dispatched the last fighter, knocking the man unconscious. 

Tony gave him a thumbs-up while Steve showed the police his identification. "Jeez, Steve, if you didn't like the seats, all you had to do was ask." Tony pulled off his disguise matrix and handed over his driver’s license as well.

After the federal agents had vouched for Steve and taken away the criminals, the event organizers approached the police, the remaining feds, and Tony and Steve. A harried looking man in a black suit spoke up. “Um, I’m not sure what happened here, but are we going to be able to continue the match?” 

The police looked at the feds, who looked at Steve and Tony. Steve shrugged. “I think we’re done here,” he offered. Permission was given to restart the event.

Then the event organizer turned to Steve. “Captain, we’re all really big fans. We’d be honored if you would sit up front where the view is better.”

Tony jumped in to accept before Steve could modestly decline the offer. “Yes, of course, show us to the seats.”

Freed from the constraints of the undercover operation, Tony was now in his element, putting on a show despite his less than fashionable attire. He smiled broadly and glad-handed his way down to the front. Steve was completely embarrassed as audience members tried to shake his hand and take pictures. It took a while for the audience to settle down even after Tony and Steve took their new seats. People kept coming up to Steve to ask him about his fighting style, what he thought about mixed martial arts, who he thought would win, and advice about training. Finally the event organizers shooed the people away in order to get the matches back on track.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked when Tony took out his phone.

“I’m changing our room. Once they put up footage of your fight, our cover was blown, and I’m not staying one more night in that room if I can help it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Does Dum-E make smoothies?” Tony finished his call and turned to Steve. “We have the penthouse suite and everything. Want a concierge to pack up your stuff?”

“No – I’m fine. I can do that after the fight.”

The lights dimmed and the announcer came out. Tony glanced at Steve, who was raptly watching the competitors enter the octagon. “You really like this?”

“Call it professional interest,” Steve replied. He leaned forward to watch closely. “I’ve always been interested in boxing though – thought I could learn a few pointers since I was getting into too many fights for my size. Now I really like mixed martials arts for the same reasons,” he finally admitted. Turning to Tony, he suggested, “You could learn something. Your fighting style–”

“I have already. Not staying in a room next to an elevator again or anything less than a suite,” Tony replied firmly. He looked over at Steve and then down at his hands, remembering the feeling of panic without the suit. Steve was right. “So. Maybe you could explain the finer points to me?” Tony asked.

“Sure,” Steve said with a smile. “I’d be glad to. Look at what the guy on the left did. You could do that.”

The man threw a left uppercut, nearly dropping his opponent. Tony wondered what the heck he had just agreed to because he couldn’t do that, the suit did that. He turned to Steve in alarm.

Steve laughed. “With practice, Tony, with practice.”


End file.
